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“You found nothing.” I shrug the blanket off my legs and stand. Is he only telling me this because he fears I’m getting too close to him? I’m starting to see the real him, so he wants to push me away? But, as I turn to him and search his eyes for deception, I find none. “Nothing,” I repeat. “No, no, no!This doesn’t make sense.” I run my fingers through my hair as I shake my head.
“Ariana, I’m sorry. I—” Alister says, standing.
“No, you’re not sorry! You’re lying to me!” I yell, shoving my finger into his chest. “You’re lying to me.” As the words cross my lips for the second time, they’re barely audible despite the volume I demonstrated just moments before. My chest heaves. My hands begin to shake.
Whether Alister is lying or not, one thing is certain. He plans on being no help to me. I’ve known it for hours now. I saw it in his eyes while we were still in the dungeon. Dr. Ramirez, offering me his bed, our entire conversation, it was all out of guilt because he knew he would turn me away in the end. Though, maybe I’m giving him too much credit by assuming he feels guilty. He probably couldn’t care less. He’s got his own wars to win, his own secrets to uncover. I’m just the girl who lied to him, who used his sister to get close to him, who he owes nothing to. And that’s exactly what he’s given me—nothing. At that, I break.
I bring my hand to my side as my emotion works through the last of my medication. “Ah!” I cry out in pain, tears flooding my face. Though the pain of my injuries is nothing compared to the pain of Alister’s admission coursing through my veins like ice. I turn away from him, but he pulls me back to him. I’m too emotional to protest when he swoops me up into my arms and carries me to the large bed with sheets the color of a foggy night. As Alister holds me, his warmth chases away the chill of hopelessness I’ve become accustomed to, but only for a moment. When he lowers me to the bed, his warmth leaves me and so does any chance of me finding out the truth of what happened to my mother.
“Nothing,” I say once more. Alister places me among the pillows, drapes the comforter over my body, and kneels beside me. His face is only inches from mine when I turn to him.
“Ariana, I know you don’t want to be alone anymore, but your answer to that isn’t here. It’s not with me. And it’s not with your mom either. Even if I had found something, it only would’ve led to more bloodshed, more death. Is that what you want? Is that what your mother would want? As hard as it is to hear, it’s time for you to move on.”
I watch him in disbelief, knowing that if anyone had the balls to tell him that when his sister went missing, he would’ve killed them. Why can’t he understand how important this is? Why can’t he help me? Is he afraid I’ll get too close? To him or to his operation?
Honestly, I don’t even care anymore. I don’t care that he’s a mob boss, a drug dealer, a murderer, or that my team will investigate him in a matter of months. I don’t care about any of it. All I want is to know what happened to—
I turn away from him and fight through my heartache enough to speak without breaking.
“You know nothing about me. If you did, you’d know that I’ve already tried moving on. For ten years!” The words scrape through me. “For ten years I tried to pretend to be normal. But normal is the last thing that my life has been, Alister. It’s isolated and filled with anxiety, secrets, nightmares. It’s not living. It’s Hell! I told myself I didn’t need to know the truth, that my mother wouldn’t want me to know. But, when you lose someone like that, my mom, your sister, moving on without knowing exactly what happened to them isn’t an option.” I turn back to him. “But you were right about one thing. I’m not giving up on this. I’m going to be the biggest thorn in your side until you agree to help me, because if you think that a five-second glance at your father’s records is enough to convince me you’re useless when it comes to this, you’re wrong.”
At that, Alister nods. “Get some sleep. We have to get up early so I can get you home before Sophia wakes up.”
Alister stands and makes his way back to the rigid settee while I fight the urge to roll over onto my side. The only thing keeping more tears from falling is the fresh rage igniting every nerve in my body. I didn’t come this far to give up now. And yet, as Alister switches off the light, blows out the candles, and returns his attention to his iPad, I know my rage is caused by more than his lack of news regarding my mother.
Alister is the only person I know who can help me learn the truth once and for all. But working with him was,ismore than a necessity for me. IwantAlister to help me because I know he understands what I’m feeling. For once in my life, I don’t have to pretend or lie. He gets what I’ve gone through, which only makes his unwillingness to help me hurt more. He understands my pain, and yet he’s doing nothing to take it away.
As I finally admit the truth to myself, I feel weak and ashamed. I’ve always wanted someone to be there for me, to help me. When my mother died, when I was bullied at school for being so behind, when the other kids in my foster homes ganged up on me and took their own frustration out on my body, when my foster dad came into my room and—
But, just like then, all I have is myself. I was a fool to think that would change because of Alister Amato of all people. No. It’s on me to discover the truth. If Alister won’t help me out of the goodness of his heart, as he so kindly put it, I’ll have to find another way to convince him to help me.
I close my eyes and pray that morning comes quickly. I need to get out of this house before I let the poison inside of it infect me and turn me into one of them—a monster, a selfish, emotionless, bloodthirsty monster. My lip quivers as I try to convince myself I was right about Alister and that the past few hours were all a lie. But as tears seep out of my closed eyes and down my cheeks, I know the only liar here is me.
12
It’s beensix weeks since I dropped Ariana off at her apartment and crushed any chance she has of learning the truth of her mother’s murder. Of course, that hasn’t stopped her from stalking me and half begging, half blackmailing me to change my mind. I haven’t, though I’d be lying if I said her pleas haven’t worn me down. Her constant efforts over the past several weeks have proven to me she’s admirably relentless and, equally so, desperate.
While I’ve come to enjoy our brief run-ins filled with her rare breed of humor, every encounter ends the same. Her dark eyes melt beneath my stern gaze as disappointment drains her, just like the night we shared together all those weeks prior. It’s that night that lets me know she’s not only desperate to discover the truth surrounding her mother’s murder, she’s also desperate to make sense of her pain. I pinch my eyes closed as images of her crying herself to sleep dance through my head. She tossed and turned all night, writhing against the sheets as soft whimpers escaped her. After hours of restlessness, she shot up in bed, covered in sweat as she cried out in fear. Fear of who or what, I don’t know, but I can’t help but feel inadvertently responsible.
She’s lived a life filled with pain and secrets. She’s closed herself off from the world, much like I have, because of her past—a past drenched in blood drawn by my father. And yet, the scars on her body tell me the loss of her mother isn’t the only pain she knows. If I’m right about the information, or lack of, found in my father’s ledger, then he’s not only responsible for the wrongful death of Ariana’s mother, but is also responsible for everything that happened to her after. Whatever she dreams of, whatever haunts her, it’s because of my father. And that’s why I can’t stop thinking about her, why I’ve dug through every record my father has, why I’ve torn my office apart in search of the truth, Ariana’s truth. But I’ve found nothing—nothing to take away the pain she doesn’t deserve, nothing to give her the closure she desperately wants. Maybe it’s for the best. I know as well as anyone that closure doesn’t exist. And sometimes the truth only causes more pain. In Ariana’s case, I fear that’s exactly what waits for her.
“Alister, you with us?” Cassio asks.
“Yeah, um, continue,” I say, redirecting my attention from my thoughts to the display of weapons before me.
Cassio Castellani is the head of the Castellani crime family out of Savannah, Georgia, and is a long-standing ally of my family. Though, you wouldn’t know it given his laid-back take on the classic suit, the dangling earring, and his young age, which is only made more obvious with his clean shave. During their prime, the Castellanis supplied their unique weapons to all the crime families in North America and many outside the US. Lucky for them, the Department of Defense caught up to them before the FBI. In exchange for a pardon, Cassio’s father struck a deal with the United States Armed Forces before his death. They’ve since legitimized their business and deal their arms only to the military. But, given our long family historyandCassio’s undeniable feelings for Sophia, he was kind enough to make an exception for me when I called him a few months ago. Now, he’s back with a brand-new shipment of guns, grenades, goggles, and God knows what else.
“I had this one made special for Sophia,” he says, grabbing a thigh strap from the table. “It’s equipped with a tracker, a knife, a USB for collecting intel, and mini Taser and mini flare.”
“You packed all of that into a one-inch strap of leather?” Gio asks.
“You know me. It’s all about efficiency and versatility.” Cassio smiles, returning the device to its place. “How is Sophia?”
Gio and I share a knowing look as Cassio avoids eye contact. I glance at my watch. Thirty minutes before bringing her up—he’s set a new record.
“She’s good. Well, as good as she can be. I think she’s more pissed than anything,” I tell him.
“What do you mean?” His brows furrow.
